


You Had Me at "Hi, I Stole Your Laundry"

by hisfirstnameisagent



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: College AU, I'm sorry this sucks, M/M, Tiny Steve, and by terrible i mean awesome, and steve is a laundry thief, really just a lot of flirting, sam is a terrible friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisfirstnameisagent/pseuds/hisfirstnameisagent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as a story that ends with a phone number written on a grumpy cat t-shirt. Really, it can't get any better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To say Steve is tired would be a complete understatement. He's not just tired, he's fucking exhausted. The kind of exhausted where his eyelids weigh five-hundred pounds and the dark circles underneath them could easily be mistaken for something out of a horror movie, but he needed to get this laundry done because he has work tomorrow afternoon and nothing to wear.

  
He opens the door to his room, thanking the gods that his roommate is gone for the weekend. He loves Sam, but he's not sure that he would appreciate Steve folding his laundry at two in the morning. The last time that happened, there had been a silent treatment that lasted for four days.

  
Steve eyes  a stack of papers on his desk, mainly exam reviews and a phone bill or two. He pauses a moment before he decides that he just doesn't fucking care and shoves every last paper off of his desk and onto the floor. He needs somewhere to fold these clothes, refusing to just throw them in the drawers because his mother didn't raise him in a barn, thank you. And she also raised him with the belief that if bills aren't in sight, you can pretend they don't exist. Probably not a good thing to teach your child, but still a useful thing nonetheless.

  
It isn't until Steve has already folded three pieces of clothing that he notices something is a little off. For one thing, the shirt is two sizes too big. It's only a medium though, but Steve—being barely even a hundred pounds—would be practically engulfed in it. And for another thing, never has he owned a shirt that is neither pink nor has grumpy cat on it.

  
"Shit," Steve mutters. "Oh crap. Oh my god, _kill me_." He took someone else's laundry. He's so fucking tired that he didn't even notice he had grabbed some stranger's clothes.

  
God- _fucking_ -dammit.

  
He throws what he's already folded back into the basket and lugs it down the hall and down the elevator in record time. He can fix this. No one will ever know. Thank god the laundry room is only a few steps away from his dorm hall. He's panting though by the time he has his card swiped and he not so gracefully tumbles into the laundry room.  
He wipes sweat from his brow before he notices that he's not alone. There's another guy—a brunette—standing in the corner on his phone and the guy is spewing a string of curse words, obviousy livid.

  
_Damn_ , Steve thinks. _I wonder what crawled up his ass._

  
But then Steve freezes. The guy is standing in front of a dryer. A dryer next to the one that actually has Steve's clothes in it and it doesn't take a genius to realize what is going on.

  
Steve could leave, he really could. The dude hasn't noticed him yet and Steve could just slip out of the room. Maybe even leave his basket and hope that the guy notices his missing clothes. But Steve can't just leave his basket. He's broke as shit and doesn't have enough money to buy another and he will absolutely not be one of those people who carry their dirty clothes in wal-mart bags. He will not. And besides, his laundry basket has his name on it—thanks, mom—and he's willing to bet that there's not many other Steve Rogers at the university.

  
Fuck. There's really no good solution here and Steve is freaking out. He's freaking the fuck out and his mouth has gone dry and he's as still as a statue. The guy isn't huge or anything but he's fairly solid and let's be real, a twelve-year-old child would look big compared to Steve. Steve would rather not get beat up at two in the morning. All pummeling should hold off until at least nine when he's finally had a cup of coffee.

  
Steve swallows hard. "Ummm," he mutters. "I-uh, I think." But the guy still hasn't noticed him and Steve shrinks in on himself. He looks down at his untied shoe and hates the world.

  
"Can you believe this, pal?" he hears the guy say, and wow, his voice sounds really nice. Nice enough for Steve to want to write cheesy poetry about it. It takes him a moment though to realize that the guy is actually talking to him.

  
Steve looks up and angry stranger is staring at him, waiting for a response.

  
"What?" Steve manages to squeak out.

  
"Some _asshole_ stole my clothes," the guy replies, gesturing angrily at the empty dryer in front of him. "I mean, my parents always told me not the leave my clothes alone but I didn't think people would actually go so low. Fuck, I don't have much else to wear. Like, that was at least two weeks worth of laundry." And the guy sounds close to tears and Steve is just so, so at a loss of what to do or say.

  
So he settles with clearing his throat and saying, "Maybe they didn't mean to?"

  
"Didn't mean to _what_?" the guy asks, looking at Steve again. "Steal my clothes?"

  
Steve nods pathetically.

  
"Well," the guy starts. "Then they have pretty shitty eyesight, I guess. And I hope they fucking enjoy all of the lame ass t-shirts I own."

  
Steve laughs at that and the guy gives him a small smile.

  
"Grumpy cat, right?" Steve asks, and yep, this is how he dies. He's lived a good life, though. He's a virgin and all, but still, a good life.

  
The guy gives him a confused look but before he can say anything Steve continues, "Because I may or may not have been so tired that I didn't notice I took your stuff. And I may or may not have made it back to my dorm before I realized it and I may or may not have your stuff right here in my basket."

  
The guy gapes at him for a moment before he barks a loud laugh. "You're fucking joking."

  
Steve shakes his head and brings the basket over to where the dude is standing.

  
"Jesus fucking christ," the guy breathes out and he's laughing and he's fucking crying. He's crying because he had seriously been that upset about it and Steve feels like the shittiest human being on the planet.

  
"I'm really sorry," Steve says sheepishly and the guy just nods and grabs Steve's shoulder, shaking him fondly.

  
"It's alright, bro," the guy says and bro? Really? He's one of those dudes? But he's hot so Steve won't call him out on it. "Just so long as you came back with the intentions of returning them."

  
Steve smirks and teases, "Well, I don't know. This grumpy cat shirt is pretty cool. I was thinking about keeping it, actually."

  
The guy's eyes light up. "Maybe we could make a negotiation?" he replies and Steve tries not to stare at his lips when he licks them.

  
"What's that?" Steve asks.

  
The guy finally takes his hand off of Steve's shoulder and answers, "You can have the shirt if you tell me your name." And Steve doesn't want to assume that the guy is flirting, but he's definitely flirting.

  
"It's Steve," he answers and the guy laughs. "What?"

  
"I was thinking maybe Bradley or Bobby," the guy says and Steve makes a face. "Steve is nice though, of course. Might just be my new favorite name."

  
"Might?" Steve asks with faux shock.

  
"Yeah," the guy nods. "James is a better name, obviously."

  
"So you're James?"

  
"Yeah, but you can call me Bucky."

  
Steve shakes his hand. "Well it's nice to meet you, Bucky."

"You too." His grip is firm and leads Steve's mind to all kinds of places it should not be.

  
They spend the next few minutes awkwardly dumping Bucky's clothes into Bucky's laundry bag. It isn't until Steve has thrown his—actually his, this time—clothes into his basket that he notices Bucky is still standing beside him. He has the grumpy cat shirt in his hands and is holding it out to Steve.

  
"Oh no," Steve says and Bucky just shakes his head. His hair moves with the motion and it's stuck up in so many random places and it's freaking adorable is what it is. Bucky has obviously been missing out on some much needed sleep as well.

  
"I was being serious," Bucky replies. "Take it." Before Steve can refuse again, Bucky throws the shirt in Steve's basket and starts to head out with his own. He pauses at the door though and turns to Steve. He smiles. "Maybe you can think of me when you wear it." He winks and Steve blushes, he fucking blushes.

  
Bucky leaves before Steve can even stammer out a goodbye and Steve is just trying to even out his breathing. He grabs his laundry basket and nearly drops it when he notices that there's something written in sharpie on the sleeve of the grumpy cat shirt.

  
It's a phone number with a smiley face beside it and that was definitely not there before. And Steve smiles and shakes his head before he realizes that he just randomly fell in love with either the coolest person on the planet or the biggest dork in the world. Maybe both. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was just gonna be one chapter but a few people commented asking for another and I couldn't resist. sorry for the lack of bucky, but sam + steve friendship is too cute.

"So you gonna text him or nah?" Sam asks from where's laying on his bed and if asks one more time, Steve is seriously gonna punch him in the face. Well, he'll try at least. He never should've even told Sam about it.

"Let's go with 'or nah'," Steve answers, rolling his eyes. He's sitting at his desk trying to focus on a paper for english and Sam is really not helping at the moment.

"Why the fuck not?" Sam asks.

"You wanna get in his pants and he obviously wants to get in yours, bro."

"I—I never said I wanted to—" Steve starts, but chokes on his spit before he can get the rest out.

" _Steve_ ," Sam starts, tone edging on annoyance. "I think we've both discussed the fact that you're gay multiple times. In fact, 'I'm gay' were literally the first two words to come out of your mouth when we met."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean—"

"Yeah. It does." Sam gets out of his bed and walks over to where Steve still hasn't taken his clean laundry out of the hamper—shit, it's been three days, he should probably fold those. He grabs the bright pink shirt on top before Steve can stop him.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Steve's voice rises at least three octaves and he cringes. "You better put that shirt down or I will murder you."

"You borrow my stuff all the time," Sam says, pulling away when Steve tries to grab the shirt. "Even though my shirts are practically _gowns_ on you."

Steve huffs. "So you're telling me you're gonna wear that pink atrocity around campus? Is that really what you're about to do? Because if it is, then you better let me take a picture."

Sam just grins that shit-eating grin of his and holds up Steve's phone in his other hand and what the hell? When did he get that?

"A picture with this?" he asks, and Steve dives for it. Well not really dives. More like scrambles around as Sam dodges his every move.

He can only imagine what the guys across the hall think all the noise is about, but seriously they can't even talk. Because there have been countless times when those asshole were just too fucking loud. Eleven o'clock at night and they want to throw a pizza party? Who the hell does that? Assholes, apparently.

Steve is in the middle of thinking about the pizza party assholes and chasing Sam around the small dorm room when he trips over a textbook lying on the floor and crashes down in what officially becomes the most dramatic moment of his life.

"Holy shit, dude! Are you okay?" Sam asks between laughs and no, Steve is not okay. Absolutely not. He thinks he chipped a tooth.

"Th—that was the funniest fucking thing in the world! Oh my god!" Steve rolls over onto his back and sees Sam wiping tears from his eyes and roaring with laughter. He flips him off and attempts to get up off the floor but slips on a stray piece of paper. Sam only laughs even harder and Steve wishes he owned some kind of weapon.

"One of these days, Wilson," Steve warns. "I swear."

"You're ninety pounds soaking wet," Sam replies, still laughing. "I'd like to see you try something."

Steve groans. "So first you steal my phone and now you're insulting my lack of weight. You're number one on my list of hated people right now." He finally pulls himself up off the floor—much to the thanks of not Sam.

"Oh, you'll be thanking me eventually," Sam says and before Steve can reply to that, he notices that Sam has sent a text off of his phone and no. Jesus christ.

"Please tell me you didn't," Steve weakly says.

"Oh, I did," Sam answers and honestly, Steve is...happy? Like, at least if Bucky replies with a _'fuck off'_ he can just give the whole lame excuse that his roommate was just being a dick and messing with his phone.

"What exactly did you say?" Steve asks, snatching his phone out of Sam's hand. Sam is still holding that stupid shirt in his other one.

"Not much," Sam answers, shrugging and throwing the shirt at Steve. "Just that your roommate is about to have a lunch date in the caf with his super hot new girlfriend and he's dragging you with him and you'd rather not be the awkward third wheel."

"That sounds super lame," Steve says. "And what? When did you get a girlfriend?"

"Yesterday," Sam answers as if Steve should've already known. "Her name is Natasha, but she goes by Nat. We sat beside each other in psych and after class we came here and—"

"Okay, I get the picture," Steve says, grinning and shaking his head. "But I swear to god if you ever kick me out of our dorm so you can have sex, I'll kill you."

"That's the second time you've threatened to end my life today, but alright," Sam says. "You can just watch then."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

Steve doesn't reply because his phone lights up with a text message and his heart starts beating a thousand times a minute.

"Check it, check it, check it!" Sam starts chanting and he just sounds way too excited about Steve's potential romantic life.

Steve opens the message and it just says _'so i'm assuming this is ur way of asking me out on our first date? :p'_

And yes. Well technically, it was Sam who did the asking and a few months later when Steve tells Bucky that, Bucky will laugh so hard that he clutches his sides before pulling Steve in for a kiss and yes, yes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was a chapter I've been sitting on for a while and literally just wrote out in the last twenty minutes, so I'm sorry if it's total shit. But it does feel great to write again as I've been so busy with school and work and just trying to survive adult life lol. So thanks for your patience. 
> 
> And for everyone who has left comments on this, you guys are all wonderful and are the reason I keep writing. Thank you guys soooo much!!! ^.^

They've been on three dates. Three dates and there has yet to be any kissing or excessive groping. Well, at least Steve _thinks_ they're dates. And he's not even counting the one time—thanks to Sam—where they ate lunch together in the cafeteria, but if he _was_ counting, then that makes four dates.

"Do I stink?"

"What?" Sam—who is currently sprawled on his bed in what looks to be _the_ most uncomfortable position in the world—turns to look at Steve.

"I said," Steve repeats. "Do I stink? Or more importantly, does my breath stink?"

Sam stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowing to slits before he seems to process what might be going through Steve's mind. He simply laughs, "Dude, I swear."

Steve sits up on his bed, determined to get an answer. "I'm serious, here."

Sam wipes a tear from his eye, still laughing. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

"Is that a yes?" Steve squeaks, freaking out. "Holy shit, have I just been unaware of the halitosis I blatantly suffer from? Is this why I have no friends?"

"Hali—what?" Sam asks. He shakes his head. "Look, never-mind. And no, your breath does not stink. It smells like rainbows and unicorn assholes. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Not exactly," Steve drawls out, grimacing at his roommate's choice of words. "I mean, colgate or fresh mint would've probably been a good enough—"

"And you don't have friends because you're scared of people," Sam interrupts him.

"That is not true," Steve scoffs. "I have plenty of friends."

"The cashier at Wal-Mart does not count," Sam laughs, twisting around to finally sit up.

"Hey," Steve says. "Clint is an awesome person and you shouldn't shit on him just because he works at Wal-Mart. Besides, we all know you hate him because he and Nat used to date."

"Yeah, can we _not_ bring that up?" Sam asks, voice rising a few octaves.

"You brought him up," Steve points out.

Before they can continue with their conversation though, Steve's phone starts vibrating on his desk and he will forever the denial the girlish noise he makes in excitement.

"Hey," Steve says, all but beaming as he chooses to ignore some comment Sam says about booty calls.

"Hey," Bucky replies and Steve can hear the twinge of humor in his voice. "What did Sam just say about me?"

"Uh, nothing," Steve answers. "Nothing important at least."

"It sounded important."

"Well, it wasn't."

"Whatever you say, little guy," Bucky teases.

"Hey, I am not little," Steve says, false offense in his tone. "At least not in the ways that count."

"Oh, you did not just say that," Sam says, reaching for his sneakers where he has them thrown under his bed. "I am out of here, dude. This is just getting too weird. Remember that phone sex definitely classifies as a good enough reason for putting a sock on the door."

"Shut up," Steve tells him, throwing a pencil at him but missing by a long shot. Sam slides out of the door and yeah, Steve actually can't believe he had said that, but it's whatever. Maybe Bucky didn't take it that way.

But Bucky's next words imply that yeah, he definitely took it that way. "You saying you want to show me, Rogers?" he asks, voice taking on a whole new meaning of husky and Steve's heart starts thudding in his chest.

"I—I mean, if that's what, if you want—" Steve stammers and dammit, he's not good at this kind of stuff.

Bucky laughs fondly and says, "Don't sweat it. We're doing this all on your terms, Steve."

"What?" Steve manages to say without stuttering. "What do you mean on my terms?"

"You know," Bucky starts. "Your pace. I don't want you to feel pressured or anything, babe. This is all up to you because I really, really like you, Stevie, and I don't want to mess up and—"

"Hold up," Steve interrupts him and the sharp intake of Bucky's breath only has Steve wondering what other kinds of ways he can get Bucky to make that noise. "Are you saying that I'm the reason we're taking this so slow? Because honestly, I thought we hadn't even kissed yet because I had some stinky ass breath or something."

Bucky starts laughing. "What? No, no, Steve. Your breath smells fine. I just, I had assumed that—"

"That I was a virgin?" Steve finishes for him and the far too fast reply of "no" indicates that yeah, Bucky totally figured he was a virgin. "Well, I am," Steve answers, face reddening even though he has no damn right to be embarrassed. "You were pretty correct on that point. But that doesn't mean I'm some innocent schoolgirl who doesn't know where a dick goes during sex."

"Always so classy," Bucky says, but Steve can hear the smile.

"You bet," Steve replies. "So, uh."

"Look, I'll be over in five minutes. And don't even bother to put a sock on the door because I just saw Sam and Natasha sneak into the back of the science building." "

Wait? Sock on the door?" Steve is breathing a little more heavily than he had been a moment ago. "Does that mean? Are we—"

" _Steve_ ," Bucky says, firmly. "Five minutes."

He hangs up and Steve stares blankly with his phone still to his ear for a little while before he makes some lame effort to clean up the room. He glances at the clock every five seconds and only trips over his feet once as he fiddles about in the room. He finally opens the door for Bucky, who looks flushed and so goddamn gorgeous.

"You said five minutes?" Steve teases. "But it's been seven minutes and—" Bucky shuts him up by pulling him in for a kiss that's long overdue and slams the door shut behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been on AO3 in like ages and I just logged and read over this story again and can't believe I ever stopped writing it because let's be real, it's adorable and I love these characters so much. they're like my babies lol. 
> 
> I've been so friggin busy lately with work and school and a relationship and maintaining friendships. I never have free time anymore haha. 
> 
> Anyways, this chapter will probably be really random and maybe a little sad at first and completely different from the other chapters. Maybe that's just a reflection of the growing up I've done in the past few months. Adult life sucks, guys lol. Writing is a good way to vent, but I promise all will end well haha. 
> 
> I love you all and thanks so much for reading and commenting and I wish I could reply to every one of your comments but once again, no time lol.

"Okay, so here's the deal," Steve hears Natasha pipe up from where she's sitting in the front seat. Honestly, he's too busy staring at where Bucky just rested his hand on Steve's thigh to pay much attention, but whatever.

Natasha carries on, "We have two choices: haunted house or trick-or-treating. And from what I've heard, the haunted house on 4th Street sucks and is a total waste of twelve dollars so-"

"So what you're saying, babe, is that you want to go trick or treating," Sam answers for her, focusing on the road as he drives and to be honest, he looks pretty ridiculous in his 'groovy pimp' costume. No wonder the people in the car next to them keep staring. "You just need as many people possible to see you in that Catwoman suit, huh?"

Natasha gives him that look she always does when she's mildly irritated at someone. "That's _not_ what I said," she replies, but any annoyance quickly leaves her face as she continues, "but if you're suggesting that, pimp daddy, then sure."

Sam and Bucky both laugh and Steve can feel Bucky turn to look at him, probably wondering why Steve himself isn't laughing as well. And Steve isn't really sure why. Actually he's entirely sure why. He and Bucky have been dating for eight months now, it's not like neither of them have never rested their hand on the other's thigh before, but this time is different.

He and Bucky had gotten in an argument earlier because, well Bucky will never admit it, but he's an insecure asshole who is always accusing Steve of not caring enough. Like okay yeah, Steve doesn't have enough time to devote twenty-four hours of every goddamn day to Bucky, but that doesn't mean he doesn't think about him all twenty-four hours of those days. Steve loves Bucky and he wishes that Bucky would believe that.

Steve is honestly surprised Bucky would go as far as to sustain physical contact at this point, with how mad he had been earlier. They're only in this car together because they had already promised Sam and Natasha they would hang out.

Steve makes eye contact with Bucky and Bucky then appears to remember that he was mad at Steve, smile dropping and quickly looking away, but not before shooting a look of disgust.

That of course only accomplishes in pissing Steve the fuck off. He grabs Bucky's hand from where it's on his leg and pushes it away, dropping it on the seat in between them.

If that bothers Bucky, he doesn't show it and instead leans up so he can talk directly to Natasha. "Look, Nat. I'm twenty-one years old. I'm not going trick-or-treating. That's fucking lame."

"Says the guy who's wearing a Donald Trump mask for Halloween," she retorts, flashing that pearly white smile of hers.

"Fair point," Bucky replies. "But _my_ point still stands. And we're not going trick or treating. I don't care if that haunted house sucks, let's go."

Natasha groans and Steve is pleasantly surprised when she decides not to argue but instead says, "Okay, fine. Haunted house it is."

"Hell yeah!" Sam shouts and Steve can't help but laugh despite being upset still.

 

* * *

 

 

"We've been in this line for an hour now," Natasha complains. "We're only halfway through it."

Sam kisses her cheek, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind. "And probably another hour to go. It's cool. This is a good bonding experience. Just hanging out and talking."

Natasha nods, "Yeah, you're right, but I already know you three jerks. What more could I find out?"

"Oh, lots," Bucky says, grinning. "You still haven't seen me naked yet, Nat."

"I'll pass," Natasha laughs. "Even though Sam has told me all about how hung you are. Isn't that right, babe? Like a horse?"

Sam chokes on his spit. "Okay, not exactly," he replies. "It's just because I walked in on him and Steve having sex. There was nothing weird about it, alright?"

"Yeah, not weird at all," Steve says, trying to hide his laughter. That day had been terribly traumatic but somehow talking about it isn't all that bad. At least it gives them something to laugh at and helps Steve focus his mind on something other than how annoyed he is with Bucky.

Until of course, Natasha says, "Wow, Mr. Quiet finally has something to say? Like, if you're not even gonna wear a costume, you could at least pretend to be in a good mood, you know?"

"I'm not Mr. Quiet," Steve defends, even though the tone of his voice totally gives him away. "And I'm in a good mood. I'm great."

Natasha rolls her eyes, "Oh and I have three tits and blonde hair. C'mon, Steve. What's been up?"

Sam, Bucky, and Natasha all turn to look at Steve. Natasha and Sam look genuinely concerned, but Bucky just looks sad and Steve just feels even worse for being the reason Bucky is upset. Actually, _no_. _Fuck Bucky_ , and not in the sexy way. Bucky has no reason to be upset with Steve and screw Bucky for being able to hide his feelings better than Steve. 

"I'm fine," Steve mumbles, trying to calm himself down. They move up a few feet in the line-still a long way to go-and the people in front of and behind them are just getting louder. "I just uh...need air, you guys."

"Dude, you're standing outside," Sam points out, laughing. "You have like all the air in the world."

"Maybe I'm just hungry," Steve says, giving Sam a look and okay, yeah Sam knows what that means. Something's up, but Steve doesn't want to really talk about it.

"I think there was like a concession stand thing over by the entrance gate," Sam says. "We're stuck in this line for like at least another hour. I'll go with you. You want anything, Nat?"

Natasha shakes her head, already starting up a conversation with Bucky, whose back is to Steve.

Sam and Steve duck under the rope that's closing in the line and head toward the concession stand.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, what did you guys fight about?" Sam asks blatantly and Steve sucks in a deep breath. Sam is always like way too good at reading situations. 

"Same old crap, man," Steve answers after a second or two. "I just...I don't know. Bucky gets so upset about things so easily lately. I feel like a bad boyfriend. But it's not like I'm doing anything wrong."

Sam just nods. "Look, man" he starts. "You've just gotta love him, you know. Through the good and bad. Like I'm not gonna lie, Nat can be a bit of a bitch sometimes and I mean that in the best way possible. Like, she's a bad ass bitch. She's _my_ bad ass bitch who isn't afraid to tell it like it is. And sometimes she just has bad days. And I gotta remind myself that even _I_ have bad days, dude."

They've reached the line for the concession stand, which surprisingly only has like three people waiting. 

Steve turns to listen as Sam continues, "What I'm saying is something is up with Bucky. He's not just getting mad and upset for no reason. Like, there has to be _something_ and you just need to be there for him for that, you know?"

"Yeah," Steve answers, nodding. "But I have no idea how to get him to open up. I just, ugh."

Sam claps him on the back, "It'll work out, dude. Now stop being so bummed or Natasha is not going to let it go."

They reach the window of the stand and Sam gets a couple waters for all of them even though Steve insists he's fine. But whatever, he can still buy his own bag of Cheetos and as he's fishing through his wallet for a dollar, he hears a familiar voice come up to pay for it.

"Here you go, ma'am," Bucky says, handing the woman the cash and winking at Steve. They move away from the window, Sam standing awkwardly a few feet away from them. "Can we talk?" Bucky asks.

Steve looks at Sam, who just says, "I'm gonna go get back in line. Don't take too long, you guys."

Bucky wraps his arm around Steve and Steve melts into it, unable to push him away even though he's angry still. The smell of Bucky's cologne is enough for him to wish they were back in Bucky's bed-because he somehow managed to get his own apartment with his cousin this semester.

They walk over to the parking lot and it's cold, like really cold and there's a busted beer bottle next to Sam's parked car and it's really dark out but Steve feels _safe_. He almost, he just wishes-

"Look, can we stop being mad at each other?" Bucky asks. "Because I can't take it."

He carries on before Steve even has a chance to response, "I'm a jerk and I admit that but I'm just stressed about a lot of things, babe." Bucky leans against Sam's car, running his hands over his voice before letting out a shaky breath and continuing, "Ever since their divorce, my parents have been really weird about things, ya know? And it's like, my dad has his girlfriend and her kids and I feel like I can't share things with him and mom, _god_ , i don't even-"

Steve interrupts him, barely even more than a whisper, "When you told me your parents weren't exactly okay with you being gay...did you mean they didn't even know?"

Bucky nods, silent.

"Wow, okay," Steve says, but instead of being irritated or angry at Bucky, he pulls him in for a hug. Which is pretty damn hard to do given that Bucky has at least fifty pounds on him.

Steve _gets_ it. He totally does. It's just that Steve went through his whole crisis thing like a good five years earlier, so he's past it. He's accepted it. But Steve is the first guy Bucky has had an actual relationship and he gets it. Bucky doesn't know how to do any of this and he's scared and taking it out on Steve and everything just kinda sucks.

Bucky starts to cry and Steve tries to hold him tighter.

"Buck, c'mon," Steve says. "I love you no matter what. We're in this together and I'm always here for you. But I'm just so fucking grateful you left that awful mask in the car or I would not be able to take you seriously right now."

Bucky laughs, a tear still sliding down his face and Steve smiles.

"Now tell me," Steve starts. "Did Nat force you to come talk to me?"

Bucky laughs again quietly before answering, "No, maybe, I mean-not really. But also yes."

Steve chuckles and leans up to kiss Bucky on the cheek. "Look, I don't want you being uncomfortable in our relationship, Bucky. So talk to me about things."

Bucky doesn't even have a chance to respond before they hear the crunching of boots on gravel coming towards them and Steve already knows who it is.

"It's fucking Halloween, you guys," Natasha says, coming to stand in front of them. "Are we done with the whole relationship drama crap? I gave you fifteen minutes, Barnes, and you better have made the best of it. Because I did not walk all the way over here for nothing. We're like three groups away from getting to go through the haunted house and I will not miss out on hearing you two wussies scream."

"Oh, hush," Bucky says. "We're coming."

Bucky grabs Steve's hand as they follow Natasha and suddenly everything is okay and so what if he almost cries at least a total of twelve times throughout the rest of the night? So what.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!!!!!(:


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